


Interruptions

by FoxLight



Series: The Strawberry Shortcake Chronicles [11]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: Comfort/Angst, F/M, Pointless fluff, Sexual Dysfunction, even rustier writing, smut ahoy, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:29:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23430964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxLight/pseuds/FoxLight
Summary: In which Walter and Barbara face a series of interruptions, and Drall has a revelation.
Relationships: Barbara Lake/Walter Strickler | Stricklander
Series: The Strawberry Shortcake Chronicles [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/753342
Comments: 6
Kudos: 74





	Interruptions

**Author's Note:**

> Not much of a point to this one, but it seems that we could all use some distraction.

Barbara yawned as the movie they’d been streaming ended and the television switched back to cable. A low stream of dramatic voices filled the air, mixed with the occasional explosion.

“Gun robot,” she cut the volume down, downing the dredges of her wine before she set both it and the remote on the table. “Perfect.”

Walter, whose fingers had been absently tracing her kneecap, turned to her with a snort. “I didn’t know that you watched this show. I’ve only seen a few episodes myself, in passing,” he said cheerfully. “Coach Lawrence tends to fire them off when he has a migraine. Ironically, he doesn’t turn the volume down. Half of my students are obsesse--”

“I don’t watch it,” she placed a finger on his lips, dragging it over his chin and down his neck. “That’s the point.”

“And what an excellent point it is,” the changeling’s lips rose into a smug grin as she scooted closer, knees bumping against his as her arms circled his neck. “Though,” he reached into his jacket, taking out his key-pen. Clicking it once, he bit his lip, then traced it from her knee to her thigh. “I will require the full expository essay.”

“Gonna grade me, Strickler?” her lips hovered closer.

The pen migrated, ghosting up her side and over her ribs to circle one breast. “Such excellent geometry.”

“I thought you taught history,” she said coyly.

“Euclid would be proud.” The pen found its way to her jawline, tracing its ridge before resting below her chin to hold it aloft. His eyes were heavy with desire as the corner of his lip canted ever-so-confidently upward. “As the Principal, however, it is required that I hold knowledge over a variety of subjects. For instance,” the pen trailed down in a straight line over her neck and into the soft valley between her breasts, “biology.”

Green eyes looked pointedly from the pen to her blue gaze.

“And language,” he continued through a swallow. ”It is important to recognize that there are many different forms of communication. Certain signs and symbols are universal,” his nose nuzzled along her cheek, “while otherd are not,” a thumb brushed across the top of her head, where a horn might have been. “One must learn to cipher through the variations. And, of course, it’s crucial to know how to properly apply one’s tongue.”

The tip of his tongue replaced the pen to carve a path along the ‘v’ of her collar. Her breath fluttered in response, and she leaned back, hands clasping around the back of his neck for leverage.

Walter, on his end, was in rapture. Her features were soft and tantalizing in the hazy blue glow of the television screen, red hair still vibrant in the dim, and he felt calm and confident in the subdued aura of it all. Soft scratches found their way along his neck and spine, sending a wave of heat through his body that crested when she moaned his name. Teeth flashing white against her collarbonee, he hid a prideful grin.

“Shall I draw the curtains?" Long hands ran up and down her torso as he pulled back to look at her, heady eyes melting into her own.

“I’ll do it.”

Walter found his gaze level with her hip as she rose to reach for the drawstrings. Smiling devilishly, he reached for the hem of her shirt and tucked his head beneath it.

“One secon-oh! Barbara lost her breath, bracing her hand against the couch as he licked her navel, and then blew on it lightly.

The changeling laughed against the goosebumps on her flesh before his tongue roamed further.

“What are you doing down there? She asked the mound beneath her shirt.

“Trying to keep things PG until you succeed,” his muffled voice explained, nipping along the ridge of her jeans. ”Lest we give the Domzalskis more than one show to watch through this window tonight.”

“I’ll never make it to the window if you keep this up.”

“Pity,” he mumbled as his nose nuzzled her skin.

The doctor pulled her shirt up, enough to reveal that emerald gaze that she constantly craved.

A few more kisses found their way onto her torso before he rested her chin against her belly, gazing up. “If I stop, I fear my heart may stop as well.”

Running a hand through his hair, she hummed, then bit her lip. “Sounds like quite the cardiac condition.”

“You have no idea.”

With a gentle laugh, she cupped his face, tracing a thumb across his lips. He kissed the digit, and she reached up to finally draw the curtains closed.

“Oh no!”She shouted a moment later, putting a hand on each shoulder to push him down. “He’s coding!”

An “oof,” escaped him as head hit the cushions and he found himself pinned. Crawling up, she straddled him, “beginning chest compressions!”

“Ack!” He pretended to cough and sputter as she lightly pumped on his chest. “I’m afraid it’s too late, this must be heaven, else I’ve dragged an angel down with me.” He pulled her down for the mouth-to-mouth. ‘I pray thee, do tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall?’”

The doctor pulled back and leaned an elbow against his chest, cheek atop her palm, eyes bejeweled with amusement.

“Shakespeare?” She blinked, coquettish

“Much Ado,” he confirmed, trying to coax her back down.

Laughter followed, punctuated by moans and deep hums of approval. Walter hooked his hands beneath her kneecaps as their tongues dueled, spreading her legs further until their hips clashed. The pressure building in his groin tightened, and he groaned as he felt himself grow harder.

Her soft giggles tickled his throat as she rocked against him, increasing his noise. Craning his neck, he exposed the tender flesh beneath, a submissive gesture that might have sent his fellow troll careening into the throes of lust. As for Barbara, she merely capitalized on the increase in territory, staining lipstick over his tender veins as she sucked below his jaw. A growl scraped it’s way out of him, followed by a strong and pointed thrust when she reached down to massage the bulge in his trousers.

“Oh, darling that feels...” He trailed off, brows furrowing in concentration against his closed eyes. “exquisite.”

A groan floated out of him as his head tilted back, and she smiled, enjoying how unhinged he was, reveling in his lack of composure. Blue eyes roamed over his flushed complexion, marveling her handiwork, before she bent down to run a hand through his hair, nipping at his earlobe.

“Do you know how hard it was to concentrate at work today knowing you were going to come over later?" she hummed, breath hot on his ear as his hand grazed her bottom, “I’ve been wanting you all day. On me, around me, inside of me.” A small tongue danced along the ridge of his ear and he moaned as she squeezed harder. “You drive me crazy. I want you all of the time.”

With newfound zeal, he launched into action, hips continuing to roll as he nudged her into a deep and longing kiss. His spidery hands roamed up and under her shirt to unhook her bra.

She did her best to distract him, replacing her hand with her hips as she began to slowly grind against his trousers. Bracing her arms against the cushions behind him, she leaned down to deepen the kiss, mewling when his tongue slid over the roof of her mouth.

An “ow” slipped through a moan when he bit her lip too hard.

“Sorry,” he mumbled through clenched teeth, trying to suppress his own hiss of pain through the bond.

Once done with the clasp, his hands dove beneath the supportive fabric, too impatient to free her of it entirely. Gently, he massaged her breasts, thumbs brushing over their tips, kneading in and out. The doctor whimpered in response, teeth clashing against his, and he dropped a hand to squeeze her hip.

Breath quickening with each second, Barbara rose back up to her knees, leaving his lips swollen and bereft, to claw at the skin beneath his jumper.

Walter lifted his torso long enough to shrug his jacket off, moaning when she used the moment grind even harder against his arousal.

“You’re going to undo me, love.”

“That’s the goal.”

His quiet chuckle quickly turned into a hiss when she shifted to undo her jeans, the increase in weight on his manhood sending stars through his vision.

Looking down at him, she smirked and circled back to repeat the movement.

The groan he released echoed through the household, and Barbara was certain that. His hands shot up to unzip her jeans and pull them down, revealing the dark floral lace of her underwear.

“Schemer,” he said as she rose to help him twist her feet free of the garment. Once out, his fingers darted to trace the lacy band that remained along her hips. eager to explore. When his palm slid across wet cloth, he growled.

Before he could move to encourage that state, the shrill melody of her ringtone filled the air, and they both turned to eye the offending object with trepidation.

She reached for the phone, blinking into it’s light.

“It’s work,” She squeezed her eyes shut, “Ugh. Why now?”

“It’s alright, you warned me that you were on call. I’ll be here when you return.”

Her cheeks puffed as she released a steadying breath, and then rolled off of him.

“This is Dr. Lake,” Her smooth voice slowly drifted down the hallway, “Yeah, yeah, I’ve got time.”

Walter sat up, trying to ignore the diligent pressure that loomed between his legs, insisting that it be freed of it’s zippered dungeon.

Green eyes fell on the television screen, vying for distraction, but the pixelated figures only offered further torture, themselves caught up in a heated kiss that, given the show’s rating, would soon fade to black. Rolling his eyes, his attention shifted to the silhouette pacing and pausing behind the kitchen screen. Every few minutes, her half-clad form would wander into the hallway, “covering such topics as stabalization, intubation, and transfusion. The sight of lacy underthings coupled with her radiant intelligence did nothing to help matters.

This struggle proceeded for the better half of twenty minutes, before her fiery and frazzled hair finally ducked below the entryway. In her hand, she clutched the neck of the bottle of wine they’d opened earlier.

“Why, look at you.” The changeling said as he eyed the bottle.

She took a hefty swig. “Mmm, long conversation. Don’t worry,” the wine splashed within the bottle as she shook it, “I know I have to drive you home later.”

“Would you like to discuss it?” He crossed his legs, straightening his jacket.

The doctor’s shoulders visibly loosened. “The new guy wanted my opinion on a difficult case. Car accident and the patient just had heart surgery. Critical and elderly, so it doesn’t look good.” She sighed, “I gave him some options, told him what I would do. There’s really no right call on this one. Just a few shots in the dark.”

Shades of sorrow passed across her vision and, not for the first time, he marveled at just how much of the world she tried to carry on her shoulders. Like mother, like son, he supposed.

“I’m sorry, Walt, I know that was probably frustrating...”

Shaking from his thoughts, he blinked at her. “You’ve no reason to be sorry. I deal with adolescents on a daily basis. If you think I’m not used to being interrupted in the middle of doing things I enjoy, you’re far off the mark. What your doing is important, and to hell with anyone who has previously made you feel otherwise.”

The line of her lips canted sideways. “That obvious?”

“Only because I’ve been granted the privilege of knowing you better than most. Now," he reached for her hand, kissing it. “Would you like to continue our academic assessment, or shall we move on to a different activity?

She smiled, using his hand to tug herself forward, straddling him as he uncrossed his legs and sat back against the cushion.

Taking another swig from the bottle, she rolled her hips against his, then pulled away, delighting in his sharp intake of breath.

Her brow quirked, “I see you haven’t lost much steam.”

“Hard to when it’s just the shirt and knickers, love.” A soft laugh drifted out of him as he took the bottle from her grasp and set it gently on the floor. “Where were we?” His long hands squeezed her hips.

“Hmm,” She splayed her hands across his chest, touch roaming downward, until she grasped his belt. “Oh yeah, physical education.”

The wine was fresh on her lips, and he drank of it eagerly, head growing dizzy from the lack of air, as if she wasn’t already intoxicating.

“I must warn you,” his low voice lolled, half in a daze, “alcohol is strictly prohibited on school premises.”

“Don’t tell the principal,” she husked into his ear, “he might punish me.”

“Oh, he most certainly will.”

She felt him grinning against her lips, and then her body jolted as a finger wandered past the lacy line of her underwear, tongue entering her mouth while his fingers entered her sex.

“Woah, cold hands.”

“Sorry,” he began, before his eyes wrinkled with roguish delight. “But discipline where discipline is due.”

“Actually,” red brows rose, ”it kind of feels good. Jokes on you.”

“Oh?” his inner troll perked up.

“Yeah,” she sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. Her hips began to move in slow circles with his rhythm. “Oh yeah.”

“Shall I leave you alone with the ice tray for a while?”

“Stop it,” she smacked him lightly on the rib cage.

Smiling, he kissed her neck, then settled into focusing on his task. His free hand wandered back beneath her shirt and past her loosened bra to squeeze her breast.

As her breath fluttered, his lips found her jaw, and he nuzzled his nose against her cheekbone.

“You’re tense, he said as he slipped a second finger inside of her, thumb brushing against her center.

“It was—ah,” a small jolt of pain rushed through them both, “a _very_ long conversation.”

The pain struck again, and he cleared his throat to cover up a grunt while Barbara furrowed her brows.

Slowing his tempo, he curled his fingers into a hook inside of her, hoping to combat the next jolt by putting pressure on that other spot he’d never admit to reading about on the internet. To his delight, his efforts paid off, and they both shivered in pleasure as she moaned and melted against him.

The hand on her breast dropped to join his attentions below, sliding against her most sensitive areas outside while the rest of him worked within.

The doctor tried to babble something, but whatever she said was lost into his neckline in a string of puffs and mewls. He adored every sound, letting them wash over his mind like a cool rain.

“If you aren't the most relaxed creature on earth by the time this night ends,” he rumbled into the shell of her ear. “I won’t have done my duty.”

“God, Walter,” she finally managed, before pressing her lips into his, her hands reaching feverishly towards the hem of his coat.

Laughter reigned when her endeavors to simultaneously remove both his jacket and jumper failed, and his head became caught in the fabric.

“Tsk, Tsk,” he tutted when he finally emerged, hair thoroughly mussed, from the cloth. Tilting forward, he nipped along her shoulder, toward her neck. His fingers were wet as they slip along her rib cage. “You ought to know that the best grades are achieved through patience and careful study.”

“Not how I got through med school.” She muttered as she placed kisses along his chest. How he managed to keep up with this little narrative of his was beyond her, so distracted was she by the rest of him.

With reverence, he freed her of both the shirt and bra, adoring the subtle flush of skin he could see in the dim light. A pedal-soft sigh rushed from her lips as he sucked on a breast, dragging his hands over her rump before hooking his thumbs beneath the lace along her hip. She toyed with the strands of silver at the nape of his neck as he tugged down.

She buried her face into his neck, teeth scraping against his Adam’s apple as her chest heaved with anticipation. Her hands dove to work on the button of his trousers.

Then, something hit his ears. Something that sounded familiar. Something that made him panic.

“Barbara, l-love, I think.” He struggled to manage his breath as he pulled away. “I think I hear Jim’s voice.”

“Wh-what?” Blue eyes opened, and then she heard the distinct sound of someone fumbling with a set of keys, followed by the light tones of teenage banter.

At once, she threw him off of the couch, tucked her underwear between the cushions, and (when she couldn’t find her shirt) donned his sweater.

“Quick! Hide in the basement!” She said as she threw his jacket at him. He grabbed his shoes and followed orders.

Barbara had just managed to pull her jeans on when she heard Jim fumbling with his keys. She through a blanket over her legs for effect, and let out slow breaths to stifle the flush in her cheeks.

The basement door clasped shut just as the knob of the front door turned.

“Oh, hey mom.” Her son greeted as he entered the doorway. Behind him, Toby and Claire filed in. “I hope you don’t mind if Toby and Claire come in for a few minutes. I need to grab some stuff from my room before we head over to Toby’s to study.”

“Hey, Dr. L!” Toby waved as he came inside.

Claire waved sheepishly behind him.

“Be right back guys!” Jim lumbered up the stairs before she could respond.

“Nice sweater,” Toby commented as Jim lumbered up the stairs. “Looks snazzy with your eyes.”

“Thanks, Toby.” She said as she toyed with a pillow. Spying her shirt peeking out from beneath the couch, she kicked it further back.

“You know, it looks an awful lot like--NOOOO.” Toby’s jaw dropped in awe.

“Ay-ay-ay,” Claire face-palmed, closing Toby’s jaw. “Sorry, Doctor Lake, he was born without a filter. Toby, it’s just a sweater, sheesh.” She elbowed him, shaking her head. “Boys...”

“Wait, does Mr. Strickler have abs?" Toby ignored her. “Because Eli owes me twelve dollars if he has abs.”

“Toby--" Claire warned. “Just stop talking.”

“And is that a hickey?” The boy squinted,” daaaang, ”

“Okay!” Claire shouted a little too loudly, shoving Toby out the door. “We’re gonna wait outside. Nice seeing you Dr. Lake!”

“Y-you too, Claire,” the Doctor replied, nonplussed.

Walter, meanwhile, rolled his eyes as he listened to the children from behind the door. Looking down, he shrugged.

“Eli owes you six dollars.” He whispered

A few minutes granted the Doctor a chance to hide the extra wine glass on the coffee table. It found its way somewhere near the underwear just as Jim thundered down the staircase, shouldering a backpack.

“Okay guys, I think I’ve got everything we need. I’m just going to say bye to—oh, they’re outside.” The boy turned to face his mother. “Well, I guess I’d better get going. Don’t want to keep the gang wait--” He paused, crystal eyes studying the sweater. Frowning, he sighed. “You’re still dating him?”

“Yes, Jim.” She stood and crossed her arms, wanting, more than anything, to comfort him. “I know you don’t like it.”

“It doesn’t really matter what I think, does it?” Steel loomed in his voice.

“It _does_ matter.” Barbara countered, “I just feel like you haven’t given him enough time. I know your world is small right now, and it’s awkward because he works at the school, but things aren’t always going to be that way. You guys had _one_ dinner together.” She stepped forward. "You need to give him a chance to be more than just your teacher or your principal, to show you who he is outside of that, before you condemn him.

“I don’t want to get to know him. Mom,” his hands flailed in frustration. “And—ugh, if this is some weird way of trying to give me a dad, I don’t need it. I’m doing fine on my own.”

The doctor took a steadying breath. “You’re _not_ fine. You haven’t been fine since you broke into that museum. But it’s not just about that. In a few of years, you’re gonna be old enough to go off on your own and--”

“I’m not leaving you.” he interrupted.

“You won’t always say that.” Her voice tightened with tears, “The world is bound to get bigger, and you’re gonna want to go out and find out who you are within it.” Tentatively, she reached out to brush his hair. “It’s normal. It’s _human._ And I’m excited for you, because I know you’ll do great things,” the side of her lip tugged upward. “I’m just looking for someone to help fill the gap when that happens. God knows I can’t cook for myself.” She tried at levity.

But Jim didn’t buy into it. “It doesn’t have to be _him_.”

Blue eyes fell. “Walt’s been great. Nothing but great.”

“I know how great he can be.” The boy’s shoulders dropped. “He was my favorite teacher, remember? But eventually I found out that he wasn’t someone I should be looking up to. ”

She tensed. “Why? Has he hurt you?”

“No. Nothing like that. He’s just,” Jim scuffed his foot in frustration, “a jerk. Ever since I found out he was...the principal, he’s been a different person. I don’t want _you_ to get hurt.”

Unseen by either of them, Walter closed his eyes.

“Honey, he’s probably just stressed.” Barbara offered. “It’s a lot of responsibility to take on, and with your behavior lately in school, it’s no wonder he’s had to be stern with you. Heck, _I’ve_ had to be stern with you. You’re not considering how your conduct is affecting the way people treat you. He’s required to address your behavior directly now, and I don’t think you like that he’s holding you responsible for your actions.”

“You know what?” he threw his hands in the air, “think whatever you want, mom. I’ve gotta go.”

“Jim.” She frowned.

“Their waiting for me outside.” He wouldn’t look at her.

A sigh fell emptily. “Just keep your phone on, and turn the ringer up, okay?”

Just then, a thud resounded through the room, coming from the direction of the basement.

***

Moments prior, Walter had felt a huff of hot breath against his neck. Heart racing, he turned as though wading in molasses.

The golden glint of a nose-ring filled his vision, and he looked up to see the spiky blue form of Drall the Deadly glaring at him in rage.

“You must stop smooshing faces with the Barbara.”

Strickler gave a short laugh, stifling his surprise. “Oh, is that all?”

“You are trying to disturb the Trollhunter,” Drall growled. “It will not work.”

“It already has,” he straightened his jacket, though the effect was decidedly less cordial with his bare chest beneath it. Somehow, he managed to push past the hefty troll to descend the staircase. “It disturbs you too,” the changeling said cavalierly as he wandered toward the furnace. “You can’t lay a finger on me without hurting her.”

The troll snorted in frustration, “I do greatly wish to pummel you. But the Barbara already does a stellar job of that in your wrestling matches.”

Walter almost choked on his own spit. He placed a hand over his mouth to suppress a cackle, though some laughter escaped his nostrils.

“Why you keep trying to best her is beyond me.” The troll went on. “Your cries of defeat are shameful. You will never impress her.”

Another squeak of laughter got out of him. “Drall, old boy, you have much to learn about humans.”

“What do you mean?”

“Absolutely nothing.” His body jerked as he contained a chuckle.

The troll shook his head. “Tobias has informed me that the face smooshing--”

“Kissing?” the teacher corrected.

“Yes, this ‘kissing’ is part of a courtship ritual. You are an impure.” He spat. “She is not your kind.”

Cracking his neck in irritation, Walter darkened. “Oh, really?” He cleared his throat, busying himself with a fingernail. “What is ‘my kind’ then?”

“I do not know.” Drall seethed, folding his arms. “You are an abomination.”

“Ah, is that what you told Nomura when you tried to _mate_ with her?”

The reaction was imminent. Drall roared and charged at him. Green light filled the air as Walter donned green stone, growling as he dodged and reached for a knife.

The air split as Drall hit a wall. The knife bounced off of one of his spikes and clattered to the ground.

***

Upstairs, Jim and Barbara both paused to look towards the basement.

“Huh,” Jim turned and looked sheepishly at his mother, “that’s weird. Don’t worry, I-uh I’d better go check on that.”

“Wait, kiddo,” she rushed to stand in front of him. “Let me do it.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “No, mom, really. I have it,” he said as he pushed past her.

“It’s _my_ house.” She blocked him again, pointing her thumb at her chest.

“Yeah, but it could be racoons, or a burglar,” he blinked. “Or a big blue troll,” he muttered to himself.

“Honey, that’s all the more reason for _me_ to go. Not you.”

“Just let me do this. He tented his fingers. Please.”

“No!”

Another sound reached their ears, this time in the form of a rumbling roar.

“Must be the furnace” Jim offered.

Barbara’s eyes widened, “uh...yeah.”

***

Downstairs, the duel continued.

“Strike a chord, did I?” Walter’s laugh thundered darkly through his trollish throat as the blade clashed with the troll’s false arm.

“How dare you!” The blue troll shouted.

“Keep the volume up and you’ll have far more to deal with than an injured sense of pride.” The changeling’s yellow eyes narrowed, through he was still grinning.

“There’s only one reason I’m not hurting you right now.” Drall huffed, holding his raised arm still, “Otherwise, you’d be dead.”

“You think I feel threatened? I’ve served centuries under both Gunmar and his son.” Walter growled. “You’re nothing, whelp”

A warning rumble echoed off of the cement walls. “If I am no threat, then why use the woman as a shield.”

“Unfortunately the Trollhunter _is_ a threat.” Walter sheathed his knife, changing back into a human. Again, he tugged at his jacket. Again, it felt silly without his sweater. “Unlike the bumbling idiots of Trollmarket, changelings know better than to underestimate humans. They may not be made of stone, but they have more power than trollkind ever will.”

The nose-ring swayed as Drall snorted again. “She deserves to know. At least Nomura knew the risks she was taking. Bar-bu-rah has no idea.”

“Nomura was young. Naive. Neither of you knew how much trouble you put her in, until it was almost too late. _You_ weren’t the one to save her hide when Bular found out. _I_ was.” He jabbed a thumb into his chest. “Have you ever considered that this enchantment might actually be to her benefit? Whether or not I am bonded to her, she is a target. If anything happens to Barbara, I’ll know, and I’ll be there.”

“I am already watching over her.” Drall countered gruffly, “and I don’t believe that your trying to save anything but your own skin. “

“No, really, Mom.” Jim’s voice behind the door had them both looking to the top of the staircase. “I’ve got it. Look, I’ll take the fire extinguisher if it makes you feel better. “If it’s the furnace, I’ll put out the fire, and if it’s a burglar, I’ll just use it to knock them out.”

“Jim, you’re not going down there.” Barbara’s low voice came through.

Both troll and changeling shared a cold glance, before scrambling for the hills.

“Help me hide!” Walter panicked, nearly tripping over a pint bucket.

The blue troll snickered. “Why, when the Trollhunter sees you, he will surely have words that will injure you better than a blade.”

“Right, so what do you think will happen when Barbara sees _you_?” Walter crossed his arms.

“Fine.” Drall snorted. “I have a spot behind the storage cabinet. You will be squished.”

“Fine.”

In a swift move, the son of Kanjigar lifted the cabinet to reveal a cut-out hole in the cement. Enough to hide the brute’s body, but little else.

The basement door opened just as Walter became pinned by Drall’s spikes against the cement. Suspecting this was purposeful, Walter changed forms, letting the points of his neck-blades dig into the troll’s back. Drall grunted, and let up.

“Serves you right,” Walter whispered, ignoring the accompanying growl.

“I guess we’re both going down,” Barbara said, uncharacteristically loud as she tried to warn her lover.

Walter smiled in the dark.

“Looks like there’s nothing here mom. See, told you I could handle it.”

“I guess not.”

Walter could hear her feet scuffing the floor as she tried to search for his form.

“It was probably something trying to get in the window.” Jim offered. “I should probably head back up to join Tobes and Claire.”

“Sounds good.” Barbara said, as they both headed back up the stairs.

“I’ll probably be back kinda late.” In a sliver of light past the hulking form in front of him, Walter could see the boy rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m gonna drive Claire home once we’re done.”

“Okay, kiddo, just please don’t do anything I wouldn’t want you to do.” Their voices faded as the door closed.

“Brute” Walter shoved the troll as he tried to scoot out from behind.

“Snake.” Drall shot back, suddenly stepping forward so that Walter would trip.

Walter growled, though he had already changed to his human form, but then the door opened.

Alright Walt, the coast is clear.” Barbara said at the top of the staircase.

Drall quickly shot back into the shadows as the doctor came down.

“Oh, there you are. Where on earth were you hiding?”

“Uh,” he fumbled, “in plain sight. I’m surprised you didn’t see me.”

“Nope.” Making her way over to him, she crossed her arms around his neck, and hugged him properly. He reflected, tucking a small smile into her hair.

“I’m sorry you had to to that.” The words were muffled into his neck.

“I understand. Never a dull moment with a teenager.”

“You can say that again. Speaking of...hmm,” she stepped back to grab each side of his jacket, pulling it further open to let her eyes roam over his chest. “I don’t know who Eli is, but he owes Toby some money.”

“What?” He pretended not to have heard. No human should have.

“Nothing,” she bit her lip, “Just admiring the view.”

Stepping closer, she let her hands drop to his abdomen, nails scraping against the light lines of muscle. It wasn’t exactly Michalengelo’s David, but he did well enough for his centuries.

“I’ll bet the view’s even better from down here,” her voice slid over him as she deftly undid his trouser button.

It took every once of him not to moan as she grasped his lower extremity, deft hands settling into a slow massage. He was keenly aware of the big blue brute lingering nearby. Propriety dictated that he move this activity upstairs. He was beginning not to care about propriety.

“Ohh, love--” he tried as she began to kiss her way down his abdomen. Cool air washed over him as she tugged the hem of his underwear far enough to grant her access. “Do you think we sh-should...should...”

The next kiss landed on the head of his...nope, he no longer cared. The world could Propriety was overrated. Propriety was for men who lived outside of the sin in which he wallowed, propriety was-was…

His hand found the back of her head, fingers grasping desperately red locks.

...but then there was Young Atlas, for whom he _did_ care, despite himself, despite their antagonistic relationship, despite everything the boy did to thwart his mother from dating him, and there were some things the boy didn’t need to know. Certainly one of those things was knowing that his mother was “smooshing faces” with--

“Barbara,” his voice box barely worked. The pressure in his groin was building at a maddening pace. Although confident that his back was to the troll, and assured by the knowledge that this was not a gesture the brute would recognize as being, in any way, sexual (threatening, if anything), there were certain commonalities between those species of trolls who reproduced in a more “conventional” manner that the carried the potential of sparking recognition.

It was beginning to become difficult to think beyond the feel of her enveloping him, her hands working deftly to apply supplemental pleasures to whatever her mouth couldn’t reach. All if it, she did the same surgical precision she carried into everything _except_ cooking, and it drove him wild. That she, this creature with all her intelligence, and beauty, and self-sufficiency, wanted him—didn’t need but _wanted_ him-- _craved_ him, even-- absolutely shattered his soul.

Though his deliberations were patchy, he managed a small whine. Was he trying to stop her? Encourage her? He didn’t know anymore. What _was_ certain was that this fiasco wasn’t going to last much longer.

And then he heard it, approximately twenty seconds before she did. Her phone ringing upstairs. The look she gave him was on the verge of tears, but simply fastened his trousers, and reached down to hoist her into his arms.

“With haste, my love!” He shouted as he jogged up the staircase.

She snorted when he almost tripped over the door frame. Rushing to the coffee table, he set her down. She answered just before the last ring.

“Uh, yeah, I think I have a copy of that case upstairs, give me a sec.” Walter heard her say as walked past him and up the staircase.

For the sake of her privacy, he tuned the rest of the words out and, trying heavily _not_ to think about what had just occurred downstairs, moved to retake his place on the couch. Wincing, he pulled _something_ from beneath his buttock, and laughed as he held a bra aloft.

***

Meanwhile, Drall’s eyes were wide as he made his way out of the crevice and pushed the cabinet back in place. He sat on the floor by the furnace, popping a hot coal into his mouth with a blank stare.

“Oh no,” he said into the empty room.

***

A while later Walter plodded up the stairs to find her sitting on her bed, thoughtfully scanning the contents of a manilla folder. Having refilled their wine glasses, he handed her one, then sipped his half-empty glass.

“Thank you,” she said, setting aside the paperwork to down it all in four gulps. “I’m really--”

“Before you apologize,” he interrupted, leaning down to place a finger against her mouth, “consider that you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Grateful,” she continued, with a smug look, kissing the finger, “to have a boyfriend like you.”

“Boyfriend,” he said as she took his glass with hers and set it on the nightstand. “What a word.”

“You don’t like it?”

“I certainly like the role,” he reached down to remove his socks (his shoes long-forgotten downstairs) and shrugged his jacket off, “but the word itself feels...insufficient.”

“What would you prefer then?” She grinned.

“Worshiper, for starters,” he hooked a hand around her kneecap, hunching to nuzzle the pale skin above her—well _his_ turtleneck.

“Pious lover,” for the second time that night, he unhooked the button of her jeans, and for the second time, she wriggled out of them. Her lips captured his, and for a while, they lost themselves in the simplicity of “smooshing faces”. All the while, his hands prowled like jaguars beneath the turtleneck, hungry for every inch of skin.

Eventually, her knickers fell victim to removal, and she hummed pleasantly as his touch found new prey to consume. Gently, he pushed her back into the mattress, and she ran her hands through his hair as he climbed over his body.

“Most devout swain,” his voice finally added, having almost forgotten his narrative amid her waxing mewls.

“But boyfriend?” he shuddered when she undid his trousers and pulled down enough to release his length. “To juvenile, too drab, too human.”

“So, you’re not human?” She giggled at his wording, sucking in a breath when he slid his sex against hers.

“I’ve told you before,” Without warning, he dropped beside her and squirmed until he could wrap his arms around her from behind. “I’m a frog.”

“Where did you go?” Her low voice sang mirthfully as she reached back to touch him, fingers bumping gracelessly against the lightest hint stubble on his chin.

“Trying something new.” He said, releasing her hair from it’s clip before burying his face in a mass of red curls. Finding her ear, he nipped it gently.

In truth, he’d researched the vaginismus she’d mentioned (it was all part of the act, he’d reassured himself), and had concluded that this was one of a great many things they could try during those occasions when she struggled with the condition. Of course, making love to her in this way was something they hadn’t done, primarily because he was afraid of it.

Dominance was a crucial part of troll mating, especially among Gumm-Gumms, and even more so among changelings: one looked out for one’s self, everyone else was a threat, and copulation, like everything, existed as a tool to get what one wanted. The language of it was carnal, but effective, and because of its violent nature, a quick way to gain influence. It was consensual, but in the same manner that it was consensual to draw pistols at dawn; though there was a pleasure and an art to it, someone usually got hurt. He’d long since abandoned such practices to his youth, but certain associations had been ingrained in him, and just as it was easiest to stab one’s competition in the back, things were often carried out in this position. Part of it was biology, but most was psychology, and with Barbara, it felt out of place. Sex was a battle in the stone-skinned world, but against her, he held no will to fight.

Long fingers reached beneath the sweater to splay across her stomach, and he pulled her further back against his chest. That her skin was smooth and free of rough engravings did much to calm his nerves, as did the notion that she might find relief.

“Is this alright?”

Reaching behind her, she tugged him into an angled kiss, and he moaned as she started to grind back and against him. His long hand dipped down to caress soft folds, still slick from their earlier dalliances, and he moaned as he felt sparks of pleasure run through her. 

"Barbara," his voice was rough as he nipped along her jaw. The hand slid up to squeeze her breast. She rolled her hips back again, and they both sighed as his tip brushed against her entrance. Warmth rushed over him, and he felt felt himself twitch and swell before pulling back to repeat the movement. This time, he pushed forward and down, deliberately missing her core to slide tantalizingly outside her folds. She reached down to stroke his length, as though in revenge, and he hissed through clenched against her ear. 

Several minutes passed like this as he worked feverishly to arouse her, and he all but felt the moment when she'd finally had enough. 

"Walt, babe?" the words drifted through a sporadic breath. 

"Hmm?" his own voice box strained as he licked her neck. Light flashed behind his eyes, and his inner troll roused at the sight of her rolling forward and onto her knees. Growling, he tamped down the urge to change. 

"Stop teasing," she commanded, and it was all the permission he needed. Rising to his knees, he positioned himself behind her, groaning against the sight of his manhood against her sex. Closing his eyes, he pushed forward, pressing slowly into her, his body surging with ecstasy as he felt her downy warmth close around him. 

Seconds in, however, he was met with resistance. A sharp pain bolted through him, and he heard her accompanying. “Agh!”

Without hesitation, he pulled out, and felt the pain fade away.

A hand covered his on her hip and she tugged forward, urging him to try again. Once more, the pain struck. Excruciating. Causing him to clamp his eyes shut. She suppressed her own whimper as he pulled out of her again.

"Barbara?" He asked as she flipped over and shuffled away from him.

“S-sorry.” She began, face flushing red from both embarrassment and arousal.

“Please, don’t be.” He reclaimed the distance until he could hover over her. “You’re stressed.”

“I know, I just--”

“It’s okay,” he soothed, green eyes soft as a hand ghosted her side. “We can work through it.”

“Oh,” she closed her eyes, frustration mounting in the salt at the edge of her eyes. Sitting up, she scooted away from him to rest her back against the headboard, pulling the sweater over her knees as she curled into herself. A palm found her forehead. “All I’ve wanted all day is just to be with you, and now...”

“You have no idea what a privilege it is to hear you say that. You _are_ with me.”

“You _know_ what I mean.”

“Barbara...” He reached out, but then his hand fell away. Pausing, he studied her carefully, noting the creases of concern littering her features--wrinkles he’d placed and failed to iron out. Guilt struck, but not harder than longing.

Finally, he found words. “There have been nights when I haven’t been able to...perform as well as I’d like. This body is getting older,” he gestured to himself, “and you’ve always found a way to work around it, never once shaming me, or claiming that I don’t want you. I’d love a chance to return the favor." He watched a tear slide down her cheek. "You can’t help what this condition does to you," he continued, wanting nothing more than to hold her, "but you _can_ let me help you work through it.”

For a while, she remained silent, a curtain of red hair shielding her from his green gaze.

Shuffling closer, his hand rose to part the ruddy strands, and finally, she looked at him, downy cheeks puffing as she released a slow breath.

“Come, then,” he took her hand in both of his, reveling in the depths of blue irises, somehow more striking with the redness around them.

Red brows furrowed.

“Come,” he slid off of the bed and stood up, naked, erect, uncaring. “Let’s get dressed.”

“Oh, I,” she looked him over as her shoulders fell. “Well,” she blinked, steeling herself, “that’s fine, it _is_ getting late, and I’m still on call...”

Still holding her hand, he tugged. “No love,” he smiled, warmth bubbling within, “I mean to steal you away. Let’s get out of here. Rent a hotel. Jacuzzi. Order room service.” His lips found her forehead once he had her on her feet. “Brunch in the nude,” he added, inciting laughter. “Of the calls, come what may. You know my opinions on crust.”

“Don’t you have to host Saturday detention, tomorrow?” Her voice wavered timidly as she wiped the salt from the bottom of her chin.

“I don’t expect a single one of my students to complain if we reschedule.” He laughed. “Besides,” he brandished his pen, tracing it over a breast. “We have our own session to finish.”

Pulling back, she eyed him. “Okay, seriously, where were you keeping that pen?”

He merely waggled his brows, face drawing closer.

“Walter Strickler,” the fire came back, “so help me, if I ever have to treat you in my ER because you have a _pen_ lodged in your-”

A kiss sealed her lips.

***

Later, wrapped in soft towels and on the top floor of one of the finer hotels in town, Walter kissed, her half-dosing cheek.

Warm water and jets had done the trick, melting away tensions he hadn’t realized she was feeling until he felt the pain dissipate. Now, beyond sated, he let his eyes roam over her pale skin, flecked with small freckles and flashes of teal veins that ran like rhizomes beneath the surface. Blossoms of red surfaced where he had bitten or sucked to hard, and he smiled at the way they matched the bright marks on this own skin.

“’I do suffer love indeed,’” The next line from his earlier quote came to mind, and he whispered it into the dimly lit room. “‘For I love thee against my will.’” Settling against her, he closed his eyes.  
  



End file.
